


Quickly String the Harp

by orphan_account



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Adaptations - All Media Types, Merlin (TV), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Arthurian, F/F, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles as the doomed Arthur and Morgana of their universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quickly String the Harp

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string  
The harp I yet can brook to hear;  
And let thy gentle fingers fling  
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.  
If in this heart a hope be dear,  
That sound shall charm it forth again:  
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,  
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,  
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:  
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,  
Or else this heavy heart will burst;  
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,  
And ached in sleepless silence, long;  
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,  
And break at once - or yield to song.

_My Soul is Dark_ , Byron

#

Erik was falling to his knees. The sound of clashing swords became a cacophony in his ears, like out of tune instruments that screamed in blind rage. Only a dirge could come after this, he thought as he knelt amongst hovering weaponry kept at bay by the barest thread of thought. 

An explosion sounded above him, accompanied by a bright white light in the sky. The weapons aimed at him fell just as his back hit the muddy ground, his thoughts tumbling too, back to the night before when he and Charles had stood by a lake once shared by them, Charles asking him, “What do you want, Erik?” 

“What I want is for the king to have not told me I was _like_ a son to him. What I _want_ is to have known you were my brother all those years I was alone. But I'll settle for my birthright,” Erik had replied.

Charles had suggested, “We could rule together, divide the territories. There doesn't need to be a war.”

“A kingdom can't be ruled by two kings,” Erik had said, when in truth, a king could make up any law he wanted. 

“You're building an army of men and women who abuse their gifts. You're becoming what the people of this land feared. Why do you want to be hated so much?” Charles had asked.

“Our father tried to burn all of our kind while unaware that his own son and bastard were gifted with what he deplored the most,” Erik had replied thoughtfully. “Those people who pretend to accept you now are the same people who will turn on you tomorrow. Are the same people who hate me now. Nothing's changed.”

“It has in my kingdom,” Charles insisted.

“That's not not enough. It has to change everywhere,” Erik said. “Tomorrow.”

They had argued some more and it almost felt like old times, like when they were boys, their arguing deathly serious over the smallest thing. Only this time, it hurt when Charles walked away, judging Erik from astride his horse. “You're more like him than I ever was. Angry. Vengeful. Stuck in the past. Move on, Erik. You can't change the past.”

Erik considered those words. Charles was right. You couldn't change the past. The future would have to do, he thought as he stared up at the fading sky, worried voices around him, hands scrabbling to touch. With relief, he sank into darkness.

#

Erik fell hard onto his back and after a moment Charles appeared above him, grinning and sweaty, looking smug. “I'm seriously beginning to question my father's decision to knight you.”

Erik grinned and held out a hand. “Help me up, Sire, the size of your head is blotting out the sun.”

Charles laughed and held out a hand. Erik took the hand, kicked Charles legs from under him and in a flash had Charles on his back, Charles arms pinned under Erik's legs as he straddled his friend. Finally, Charles' sword was in Erik's hands and pressed to Charles' throat and Erik wore the smug grin.

“You were saying?” Erik asked him.

“I was saying... well done, time for a well earned swim?” Charles asked sheepishly.

Erik nodded. “It's what I thought you said.”

Charles laughed under him, his body shaking. When Erik shifted he noted that Charles felt hard under his clothes. Erik frowned and looked down at Charles, eyeing his covered groin. Then he looked around the training grounds and up at the castle. “What is it? Is it Jean?”

Charles frowned up at him. “What are you talking about?”

Erik pointed downwards. “I'm talking about your sword growing too big for your scabbard.”

Charles scrunched up his face and managed to topple Erik off, smoothing down his apparel as Erik sat up, squinting at Charles in question. He looked worried about something. “What?”

“She's like us. Well, me,” Charles said quietly. Erik stared. Jean was just a maid. If anyone found out she was gifted, she'd be tied to a stake without a moment's notice. “I told her she's safe. I had to. She inadvertently revealed herself and as soon as I picked up on it, she knew I was the same. Her gift's strong, Erik. Amazingly strong.”

Erik looked up at the castle. “You know, if the king knew about you, maybe he'd change his mind about the rest of us.”

“Or think I was under someone's sway,” Charles said with with a scowl as he rather angrily took off his gloves. 

Erik got up. “Maybe things will be different when you're king.”

“No maybe about it.” Charles smiled, taking his sword from Erik. “And I'll have my most favoured knight and friend beside me, of course. Not to mention my most trusted weapon fashioned by Sir Erik himself.”

Erik nodded, pointing at the sword. “Unbreakable.”

They both grinned, not talking about the sword at all.

#

Erik came to as someone lifted off his helmet. There was pain almost all the way down the left side of his torso where it felt as though something had hit him with the speed of a runaway horse. His shirt was ripped wide open and bloody, a wounded hidden under a wad of bandaging. Erik began to sit up, only to be pushed back down.

“No,” Raven said from his bedside. “You're wounded. Badly.”

Somehow, he forced Raven aside enough to let him sit, though it sent a shock of pain down one side, all the way to his toes. “Did you do what I asked?”

“You were right. Looks as though the Queen doesn't know who to protect first. Her king or her favourite knight,” Raven said with a nod, sitting down beside Erik. Her armour and clothes were black like Erik's, her skin looking a moody blue in contrast, while her flame hair and golden eyes seemed to glow. She reached out and stroked his cheek. “You're wounded. You need to rest.”

Erik took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips, shaking his head slowly. “Later.”

Raven closed her hand around Erik's. “What if there is no later? What if the prophecy of the Phoenix comes true and we all burn today?”

“Then we burn,” Erik said. When Raven seemed to stiffen he smiled at her and said, “Besides, who amongst us has that kind of power? Your people have always had quite the flare for the over-dramatic, Raven.”

Raven snorted. “It was the druids who took you in and gave you a home when you fled Westchester, Erik. I wouldn't be so quick to mock them if I were you.”

Erik pulled away from her with a smile. Raven had come a long way from the frightened young woman who had sought refuge at Westchester. She had been scared and alone in a kingdom which carried out purges against the gifted, or as the humans called them, the cursed. Meeting her for the first time, he could never have imagined that she would be the one fighting at his side today.

#

The door swung open and someone barged straight in. It could only be Charles. Erik finished dressing and walked into the main room where Charles was shutting the door and a young woman stood, one hand anxiously twisting the other as she held them both before her. There was something odd about her. The way her finery didn't quite suit her. 

Charles turned to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. “It's quite all right, Raven. You can trust Erik.”

Erik frowned at the both of then. “Charles, what's going on?”

“Raven?” Charles prompted the young woman.

She gave him a nervous look and then suddenly changed from pale-skinned and yellow haired to blue all over, her hair the colour of bright flames. She wore not even a stitch of clothing, yet somehow seemed not to be naked either. Erik stared at her. He had never seen someone quite so remarkably beautiful. 

“You have the gift,” Erik said quietly.

She nodded, giving the door a quick look. “I need sanctuary.”

“King Stryker's men are after her. They couldn't catch her so they've alerted all the kingdoms that a cursed refugee is on the run and dangerous,” Charles explained. “I found her in the kitchen.”

“They know both of your forms?” Erik asked with a frown. 

Charles laughed, shaking her head. “Not both. Erik, Raven can mimic anyone's appearance. Mine, yours. Even the King. But... well, it's not going to work.”

Raven nodded. “Stryker's witchfinders know the dark arts. They can find ways to manipulate our gifts. Trap me in this form. And they're coming here by invitation of your king. He seems very willing to help.”

Erik looked at Charles who's jaw seemed set to break it was clenched so hard. He turned his gaze to Erik and said, “We have to take her back to her clan. The druids are powerful enough to defend themselves against witchfinders and they certainly will if one of their own is in danger.”

Erik nodded and looked at Raven. “Then that's what we'll do. No one's going to hurt you. Not as long as Charles and I are here.”

#

Erik felt dizzy for a moment and felt himself losing his balance. Raven slipped under his arm, her other arm tightening around his waist. “I told you not to get up.”

Erik closed his eyes for a moment. It seemed to be reason enough for Raven to drag him back down to the small pallet that served as a bed. Erik lay down and blinked up at the tent fabric, the way it seemed to be moving upwards, pulling itself out of existence as Raven checked his bandages, the pain from applied pressure bringing him back down with a loud gasp. 

Raven got up and left and for a moment Erik floated between sleep and wakefulness only to find that Raven had come back at some point, without his knowing, and now lay stroking his hair, slow and soothing. When she kissed the corner of his eye he sighed.

“There's time,” she said. “We can still put an end to this.”

“Don't you want to be the Queen of Westchester?” he whispered. 

She shook her head. “Not when I know what it's going to cost you.”

Erik stared ahead, a blessedly strange stillness descending upon him before his heart could overflow too much and leave him lying useless in Raven's arms. 

#

“You and Charles are lucky that you have each other,” Raven said quietly, huddling into her blanket on the other side of the fire. Charles was checking the perimeter and feeding the horses while Erik sat with Raven, half their journey done towards the druid camp. 

“Do you have family?” Erik asked.

Raven shook her head. “Most of the camp is made of those like me. Ones who are cursed with the outward appearance of demons and other-worldy creatures. At least I can hide when I'm amongst humans. Not all the druids are so lucky. It's how they came to be. Driven out of their homes and towns because they looked like the servants of the devil.”

Erik scowled at the twig in his hand, twisting it and snapping it loudly as he bit down on his anger. “Things shouldn't be this way. It's unfair.”

“Yes, it is. But it could change. If one powerful man who possessed the gift were to step forward, an heir to a kingdom perhaps.” Erik stared at Raven. “Your king loves his son very much.”

“I would not have that love tested,” Erik said quietly. “Charles loves his father just as much.”

“Would he love him any less if he knew what your friend was?” Raven asked. 

Erik shook his head slowly. “That's not something I want to find out.”

Raven smiled, despite the sheen of wetness that appeared in her eyes, making them glow golden with firelight. “He's lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Um...” Erik and Raven turned to see Charles standing nearby, looking awkward at best. “We've got a long day's ride tomorrow, I suggest we get some sleep. I'll take first watch. Erik?”

Charles nodded towards where the horses were tied and walked away, Erik following him. “Is something the matter?”

Charles shook his head, glancing at Raven. “No, of course not. I just wanted to say... well, thank you.”

Erik frowned. “For what?”

Charles looked around, taking a deep breath and sighing as if he himself had no idea what he was saying. Finally he shrugged. “I don't know. This, I suppose. You didn't have to come.”

Erik snorted and said, “Yes I did. You going hunting on your own would have sounded a little too far-fetched.”

“No need to be smug,” Charles said, rolling his eyes. He gave Erik a light punch on the arm. “Get some sleep.”

“I can take first watch,” Erik suggested. 

Charles shook his head. “No, I'm too awake. Best make use of it. Go on, I'll wake you.”

Erik glanced back at Raven again, regretful to be leaving her company, but he gave Charles a nod and pat on the arm all the same and went to his bedding. Sleep didn't come easy, the air chilly and the forest noises sharp in his ears. Then when he finally started to doze, he caught the sound of Charles' voice, quiet and secretive.

“I understand your feelings,” he said, “But freedom can't always be bought with a sword. Our time will come, Raven, but it mustn't be through war. Not by becoming the very thing humans fear. It's something the druids have yet to learn.”

“The druids were peaceful once,” Raven said. “Before your father started having them hunted, before he taught his people to fear them. Sire.”

“I am not my father,” Charles said softly. 

“No,” Raven said. “You're one of us. Hiding, pretending to be a human.”

“You think that revealing myself will change things?” Charles asked. “That he'll forget the thing he hates the most? It didn't happen to King Stryker. He still hunts people like you and me and as for his son, who knows what's become of him? Change will come, Raven, we just have to be patient. We have to show those who do not possess the gift, there is nothing to fear.”

“I don't think Erik would agree,” Raven said.

Erik was wide awake now, holding his breath as the silence stretched too long before Charles said, “Erik is his own man.”

“You wouldn't care if he disagreed?” Raven prodded.

“Yes,” Charles said very evenly. “I would care a great deal. But I wouldn't love him any less, if that's what you're really asking.”

Raven laughed a little, the sound bitter. “I suppose you're not like your father after all.”

Erik blinked into the dark before closing his eyes, refusing to think upon either Charles or Raven's words.

#

Erik awoke with a loud snarl of pain. His fingers were wrapped around someone's throat before he could even think about what he was doing. Blinking sweat out of his eyes he looked at the man who had caused him pain. He should have been gasping for air, but strange gills had appeared around his cheekbones and he remained his calm self.

That was when Erik realised he was leaning against someone, the body immediately familiar as Raven's. She reached past him to pull away his hand, telling him, “Let Darwin finish what he was doing.”

Erik looked at Darwin and nodded, slumping against Raven and closing his eyes as she moved his damp hair away from his eyes. “Is it bad?”

“Could be worse,” Darwin said. “I've cleaned and stitched the wound. Hopefully, it'll stay uninfected. I don't really feel enthusiastic about being the man who has to cauterize this.”

Darwin finished re-bandaging the wound and then helped Raven to strip away the rags of Erik's shirt, leaving him in his breeches. One moment of distraction and he was missing his own war, Raven taking the complete burden of leadership. He watched her hand the clothes to a young druid boy, issuing more orders before she sat down beside Erik.

“Don't get up from here. I'll keep you informed. I need you alive, Erik,” Raven said, pressing a kiss to his tired mouth. All he could do was lie there and close his eyes as he drank in the pressure of her lips before she left amidst a sound of armour and the unsheathing of her sword.

#

Erik awoke, his arms flailing outwards to grasp at thing air. Someone grabbed him around his shoulders and lowered him back down onto damp earth, shushing him softly. “It's all right, Erik, it's just me, Charles.”

“What... what happened?” Erik croaked. He felt cold all over as if he might break into shivers any moment now. 

“We were ambushed, remember?”

Erik nodded up at Charles as his friend pulled him close and cradled Erik's head in his lap. “I... I think I recognised a symbol on the cloak of one of the men. I think... I think Stryker sent him.”

“Are you sure?” Charles asked with a frown, receiving a nod. “The others fought like mercenaries. Father's not going to be pleased when we tell him. If we get to tell him. These woods are under the protection of Westchester. Stryker has no business here- Erik? Wake up!”

Erik forced his eyes open, slowly forcing himself to blink up at Charles. “How bad?”

“You've had worse in training,” Charles said, the slight crack in his voice giving him away completely. “You're going to be fine. If we're not back in a few hours, Father will have Logan leading a search. We just need to stay put.”

“Or you could-”

“ _No_ ,” Charles snapped. “Don't say it. Don't even think it. We don't leave each other behind.”

Erik smiled a little lazily. “I'd leave you.”

Charles looked down at Erik with an arched brow. “Keep talking and I might just stick you with another arrow.”

Erik laughed. It hurt to laugh, but not as much as it felt good to see Charles smile.

#

_Erik? Erik_

Erik stumbled from the tent, his hand clamped to his side. He could hear noise in the distance. Seeing was much harder, everything tilting and blurring. And the air tasted like metal, like blood. It was so strong, the taste, the feel of it on his skin, the strange buzz of it in his body, he thought he might be sick where he stood.

_Erik_

“Why don't you show yourself!” Erik yelled, pressing a fist to the side of his head as he grimaced, the pain behind his eyes intolerable. Erik fell to his knees, slumping over, whispering, “Charles. I know you're here. Show yourself.”

A hand suddenly clamped around Erik's mouth as a familiar voice shushed him and said, “Sleep.”

#

Erik opened his eyes slowly. It took a while for his eyesight to adjust to the dark before he realised he was in his bedchamber. The forest had been washed away from him and his wound tended under his nightshirt. A fire had been lit in the hearth and despite the frosty night, some of the heat was actually making it to the bed. Erik watched the fire for a moment from where he lay until he got the distinct feeling he was being watched. 

Erik turned onto his side to find Charles lying on top of the covers, propped up on an elbow and watching Erik in quiet contemplation, not shifting even when Erik frowned at him question. After a moment he finally said, “Do you know you stopped breathing?”

Erik frowned. “When?”

“On the way back here,” Charles said, picking at the blanket. “Closed your eyes like you were sleeping and just stopped.”

Erik just nodded. What could he say to that, despite wanting to apologise? “What happened?”

Charles made a sound like a huff of a laugh. “I beat your chest like some deranged widow. Don't you dare, I said. Did you hear any of it? I wondered afterwards if you could hear any of it.”

Erik shook his head, reaching out to squeeze Charles' hand. “I don't remember.”

Charles nodded, looking at their joined hands. When he looked up his eyes were wet, a breathless look about him. “I couldn't bear the thought of returning here without you. I grieved, Erik. You were dead for mere seconds, and I grieved. When did I... how did this happen?”

Charles swallowed, taking his hand from Erik's grasp and covering his face as he took a shuddering breath. Erik sat up gingerly, the wound in his chest pulling tight. The slight movement was enough to take away his breath. He reached out and pulled away Charles' hand, his own shaking and weak. 

“Charles,” he said, unsure of what to say next. Even if he could think of something, what Charles did next would have left him speechless.

He gently pushed Erik's hand down to the bed, leaned forward and pressed his salty tear-wet mouth to Erik's lips in a kiss. Erik could feel the wetness of Charles' skin on his own, feel a slight tremor along his mouth. For a moment he did nothing, frowning and blinking as he wondered what Charles was doing, but then his mind whispered _a kiss, this is a kiss_ and he jerked back hard and stared.

Charles didn't move away. He didn't have to. He knew Erik's mind better than his own and he didn't have to fear Erik's reaction or his confusion. He stayed where he was and told Erik, “I've fallen in love with you.”

Erik frowned, smiled slightly. “Of course we love each other.”

Charles shook his head. “Not as friends. Not as, what do you call it, brothers by heart and not blood. I mean, I mean _love_ , Erik. I mean awful, heart-twisting, nightmarish love. The kind where you can't even conceive losing the most precious thing to you without feeling like the world is going to collapse. Do you understand?”

Erik nodded slowly and said, “Okay.”

Charles stared and then nodded back, taking a shuddering breath, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Rather tightly, he said, “Well, good then. Suppose I'll sleep easy tonight. As ever, wonderful talking to you, Erik.”

Erik smiled, grabbing him by his shirt just as he turned to leave. He hooked his fingers into the front of Charles' shirt and pulled him close before laying a kiss on his mouth. It was as he had always imagined it would be.

#

Erik awoke because something ghastly was prodding him to consciousness, the smell of burnt flesh which made the bile rise in his throat. He felt dully aware of pain, but it seemed hard to connect to it. It almost floated out of reach. His eyes snapped open and he lurched up to call for the guards.

Charles, who sat beside Erik, clamped a hand over Erik's mouth and pushed him down against his pillow. “Don't. You know I don't need a gag to silence you, Erik.”

Erik shoved Charles aside while a sword hurtled through the air towards his hand. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the sword just as Charles stood and stepped towards him, hand outstretched, commanding Erik to, “Stop.”

The sword fell to the ground with a thud, but it lay there like a suffering fish out of water, desperate to be off the ground as Erik fought against Charles' power. His body felt locked in place, but not without straining Charles. Erik could see Charles was struggling to control Erik. Even so, Charles was stronger. He had always been stronger. Charles let Erik go, probably as soon as he felt Erik's will slip. Then he was there to catch Erik as he fell to his knees.

Erik took deep shuddering breaths, his wound a bright pain in his side. Charles sat with him, both of them on their knees together, Charles holding Erik close, taking all his weight. Erik clenched his jaw and looked up at Charles, shaking his head, “Is this how you fight a fair war?”

“Do you fight fair, Erik?” Charles said, his eyes looking bright and fevered. Erik extricated himself from Charles' grasp, putting some distance between them. He grimaced when the movement pulled at his wound, his hand going to his side. Charles reached out a hand. “Careful. I cauterized. It looked bad.”

Erik glared at Charles. “You make an even worse enemy than you made a friend.”

Charles blinked at the barb before sitting back and staring at Erik. “Don't mince your words, Erik. Do say what you mean.”

“You come here in the middle of a battle and tend to my wounds. What am I supposed to do next? Lay my head in your lap so you can sing me a lullaby?” Erik asked. The way Charles swallowed, keeping a smile on the surface told Erik his words sung suitably. He all but growled at Charles, “Why are you here?”

Charles' expression hardened considerably. “We need to talk.”

“No we don't,” Erik said. He closed his eyes, his breath feeling too shallow, head pounding. He swallowed down the lingering nausea and said, “No talking.”

#

“Shhh, no talking,” Erik said, laughing against Charles' mouth. Charles laughed with him, their mouths too mischievous to accomplish the task of kissing. 

Then Charles gasped, his mouth falling open, which Erik couldn't resist, his mouth immediately moving in for a deep and indulgent kiss. Charles made a series of small noises at each gentle thrust Erik made, no longer complaining it wasn't enough. 

As Erik increased the rhythm of his thrusts, Charles let his head drop back, eyelids fluttering shut, their lashes damp and clumped together. His hands were still linked around Erik's neck, hot and sweaty like the rest of him, his thighs wrapped around Erik's hips. His cock was jutting hard against Erik's stomach, wet and leaking, fit to spill any moment.

“Erik,” Charles said, the name coming out more like a sigh. “I need... I want...”

Erik reached in between them and took firm grip of Charles' cock, slowly beginning to wank him in rhythm to his own thrusts. Charles' expression instantly changed from a strange lazy euphoria to a look between shock and bewilderment and finally a look that could have been mistaken for pain, but Erik knew most certainly wasn't. 

Charles' eyes were shut tight, the grip of his fingers against Erik's neck becoming bony and rigid, his thighs tightening hard before he came, a warm splash against Erik's chest and throat. Erik pushed forward and Charles let go of his neck to slump back against the pillows. Erik started to move with a desperate ferocity, chasing after his own release, Charles' come smearing between them, until he finally came with a final stuttering snap of his hips that moved Charles a few inches up the bed.

Erik let his forehead drop against Charles' collarbone, his own breath feeling too hot trapped between his mouth and Charles' radiating skin. He let his eyes drift shut as he lay there. They remained shut when Charles grasped Erik's face in both hands, lifting his head up for a kiss before he let Erik lay back down, his arms tightening around Erik, their bodies still joined for now.

As Erik nuzzled the spot above Charles' heart, he couldn't think of anything more perfect in the world than this, lying here with the man who Erik had once wished as a brother, the boy who became his friend, the prince who was now his lover.

#

Erik awoke feeling heavy and tired, his limbs aching, his wound still a patch of heat in his side, tender and flaring in pain at the slightest movement. But his head felt clearer, his senses sharper and not so distracted by the taste of metal in the air. The world seemed less likely to close in and crush the life out of him. 

The lamplights were low, flickering inside the tent. Night had fallen outside and Erik had missed a day of battle lost in delirium. He shut his eyes, biting down on the spike of anger he felt. One moment of distraction was all it had taken. One moment of seeing Charles seated astride his horse, nodding to his queen, commanding his knights and Erik on the other side, like they had had never been anything to each other. That was all it took to send him to the ground.

He sat up slowly, looking at the drapes that separated his tent in two. He could make out the shadows of two people seated opposite each other, their whispers loud enough for him to hear the conversation between his wife and his brother.

“You took a risk coming here,” Raven said. “Should have sent someone else. Your clawed knight perhaps.”

“Erik won't hurt me,” Charles said, so offhand it soured Erik's mood even further.

“No. But his subjects would,” Raven said. 

There was a lengthy silence during which Erik could feel the weight of Charles' thoughts as they turned. “He's a good king to his people.”

“You didn't think he would be?”

“Erik wasn't raised to be a king. There was no reason to think about what kind of king he might make. He was just Erik,” Charles said. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of Erik's mouth. He couldn't remember ever having minded being _just Erik_. “Look at you both. Rulers of the druid territories. What fine neighbours we would make, if you weren't intent on punishing every human for breathing.”

“They started it,” Raven said as Erik stood, pulling the blanket with him and gingerly wrapping it around his shoulders.

“Remarkable. You really are his other half, aren't you?” Charles asked with a tone he had no right to take with Raven. “Killing innocents will not change the past, Raven.”

“So you keep saying, Charles.” Erik stepped through the drapes, deciding he had endured enough of this conversation. Raven looked up at him from where she sat, her eyes roaming over his face, while Charles stood, unreadable. 

“You look better,” he said. 

Erik swallowed, the words 'thank you' on the tip of his tongue. He settled on a nod of acknowledgement. He slowly took up a place on the floor, sitting on a cushion next to Raven. He drew up on leg, letting his arm rest over his knee. “So. You want to talk.”

“We have to stop the battle,” Charles said. 

“Are you here to surrender?”

“No,” was the quick reply.

“Then you have until sunrise to return to your camp,” Erik said. 

Charles mouth lifted in a half-smile that was as sharp and cutting as a knife. “I'm not done talking.”

“You never are, Charles,” Erik said, smiling back with an equal lack of humour. After a moment he added, “Except for when it matters.”

Charles' smile remained, something ugly and out of place under his wounded eyes. He nodded and stood, fixing his gauntlets, eyes fixed on the work at hand. Erik looked away, aware that Raven was watching him, curious and confused. 

“King Shaw is on his way,” Charles said quietly. “He's taken the north. Stryker fell this morning. His master plan is to circle this battlefield like a vulture and then pick at the bones of the victor.”

Erik's head snapped up at Charles, eyes wide open, senses immediately alert, pain forgotten. He stood, staring at Charles as Raven asked. “Stryker's dead?”

Charles nodded at Raven and then finally looked at Erik. “Shaw intends to fight whomever is left standing and then take both Westchester and the druid territories of Genosha.”

Raven stood as Erik turned away to digest the news. Shaw was no new thorn in their side. It was only a matter of time before he reappeared. 

“Erik,” Raven said, in one word urging him to take the necessary action.

“We always said we'd go after him together,” Charles said quietly. Erik turned back to look at Charles. “So let's do it.”

Erik snorted. “You and I fighting on the same side?”

Charles smiled, looking tired, older than his age. “Our people defending their kingdoms from the same side. We're just the kings. The least interesting pieces on the board.”

Erik smiled despite his sour disposition. He looked at Raven for her answer and she gave him a nod in reply. He looked back at Charles and said, “I take it you have a plan.”

#

“... there will be no war with Westchester when the sun rises. The King and his army will fight by our sides to ward off invaders from the north,” Erik said, his troops watching under the black of night, lit by fiery torches.

“But Shaw fights for the gifted!” 

Erik couldn't see the man who protested, but he turned his head in his direction, hovering a little higher. “He also brings with him Stryker's human army. How long do you think they will remain loyal to him? How long before they turn on our kind? And, yes, Shaw fights for the gifted, but are you willing to hand him your homes and land as protection? Even if we are the victors against Westchester's army, Shaw comes with the intention to conquer, not befriend.”

Erik awaited for dissent. None came. When he turned to look at Raven, her eyes seemed liquid in the firelight. She lifted a fist in the air and shouted, “For our lands and freedom!”

“For our lands and freedom!” came the numerous replies.

Erik nodded. “For our lands and freedom.”

He glided back to the ground, his purple cape wrapped about him, keeping his wound from sight. He nodded to his soldiers, watching them group together and converse, Raven mingling amongst them. When he turned his back on the noise, stepping towards his tent, he saw Charles, hidden under a hooded cloak, his eyes fixed on Erik. Erik stopped before him, slightly undone by the soft look aimed at him.

“You make quite a leader,” Charles said, sounding somewhat regretful. “I hadn't truly grasped what it was my... our father took from you.”

Erik felt a cold shiver, his core too easily shook by a past he regretted so much he would cut it from his heart, mind and soul if it were possible. He walked away with a harsh, “No talking.”

“Please,” Charles said, his voice breaking. “Erik. Please.”

Erik felt his face crumpling under the weight over everything they had lost. He didn't dare turn back to look at Charles as he stopped in his tracks. “Return to your camp. Tell your people we will fight side by side. Don't ask me for more than that, Charles.”

Erik left without another glance or another word. The time for talking had been over a long time ago.

#

Charles was sat by the king's bed, holding his father's limp hand. The afternoon light was filtering through suspended layers of dust, making the room look as if it was filled with a warm and gentle mist. Erik stood by the door, not daring to intrude. Not that he had any desire to. The king had been kind to him, treated him well. But there were others he hadn't treated as well, simply for being different. It made him wonder what the king would do to him if his gift ever came to light. What he might even do to his own son.

A presence at his side roused him from his maudlin thoughts. Jean gave him a gentle nod. The hem of her yellow dress had gathered dust and her red hair appeared frizzy, ready to escape from its loose binding. Her face was flushed from exertion. She had been rushing to and fro since the king became injured, so desperate to be of help to Charles. It was a comfort that Erik wasn't the only one saddened by the prince's unhappy state.

“How is he?” Jean asked.

Erik shook his head. “No change. The physician says the wound isn't healing.”

Jean shook her head. “What now? Will Charles go after Shaw?”

“It's what Shaw wants. For us to attack him. It's why he sent an assassin. To force us into looking like the aggressors. An old trick.” Jean frowned in question. “It was how my parents and the Queen died. They were travelling together and were stopped by mercenaries. One of the guards recognised a crest, but there was no other proof. Too little for the King to go to war. It's Shaw's way of conquering. By letting others make hasty decisions.”

Jean looked regretful. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Erik smiled, tapping his temple. “Didn't you?”

“I promised Charles I wouldn't. Besides, I have no right to the secrets of another's mind,” Jean said, shaking her head. Erik gave her a long look and nodded, appreciating that what was his could remain so even in the company of those with gifts like those of Charles and Jean. She touched his arm and said, “Let me know if I can do anything.”

Erik nodded, watching her rush away as she had rushed in. He turned back to look at Charles and the King with a sigh. Charles was frowning and the King seemed to stir, Charles leaning forward to listen. Charles nodded and looked up at Erik, saying nothing, but his expression clearly asking for Erik. Erik went, stopping at the foot of the bed to look at the King who was deathly pale, already a ghost.

“Erik,” he rasped. 

Erik walked around Charles' chair to seat himself on the edge of the bed. The King withdrew his hand from Charles' grasp and clasped Erik's instead, all under the scrutiny of Charles' curious gaze. 

“I am not long for this world,” the King said. 

“Father, you mustn't,” Charles said.

The King smiled at Charles, his eyes glowing warm as he looked at his son. His gaze turned to both of them as he said, “This is the only regret of the dying, that they must leave the ones they love behind.”

“Sire, you should save your strength,” Erik said, catching a glimpse of the tortured look on Charles face. He seemed so much younger than his age. 

“There are things that must be said before it is too late. Erik, I fear I have wronged you greatly. It is a burden which I cannot carry to my grave.” Erik frowned, his hand curling in the King's loose grasp. “I always tried to be a good to you. To treat you as a son and not a ward.”

Erik nodded. “You have, Sire. I have no complaint with you.”

The King's eyes filled with tears and he shook his head. “But I have a complaint with myself. I have hidden from you a truth... I... I just could not bear to see what you might think of me. What you might think of your good mother.”

Erik stared in confusion. “My mother?”

The King let go of a painful sounding breath. “I knew her from my youth. My parents did not deem her to be... a right choice for queen. I was young and I did as they wished, leaving the only woman I ever loved.”

Erik pulled slowly his hand from the King's as he blinked down at the stricken man, Charles still and quiet next to Erik. “I don't understand.”

“We both married according to the wishes of our parents,” the King continued, eyes glazed over as if he was lost somewhere in the past. “Your father was a friend and confidante. He knew his wife was coming to him with a broken heart and he wished to be the one to mend it. He was a much better man than I, giving you his name when you were born.”

Erik got up as Charles asked tightly, “Father, what are you saying?” 

The old man's face crumpled as he confessed, “Erik is your brother, Charles. I could not tell you. You must forgive me. I beg of you both to forgive me.”

Erik shook his head, silently backing away from the bed as he looked at Charles. “He's delirious.”

Charles raised a shaking hand, pressing two fingers to his temple as he peered at his father for the longest time. Then his his hand fell to his side and he rose to his feet, stepping away from the bed to stare at the King who had become still and silent. The room was deathly quiet, but for the sound of Erik's harsh breathing. He stood pressed hard against the wall, awaiting Charles' answer.

“It's true,” he finally said, his voice a dead sound. Erik looked at the King and then back at Charles. Charles seemed in a daze, face devoid of emotion. His jaw clenched before he said, “I have to... I have to go.”

“Charles!” Erik said, but Charles shook his head, turning and stalking out of the room. “Charles!”

Erik stared at the door through which Charles had deserted him, frozen where he stood, while the King's fading voice continued to ask for forgiveness.

#

They gathered in Charles' camp the next evening, Erik and Raven striding in together. Charles stood waiting with his queen and knights assembled. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said with a smile so grateful Erik had to look away. “Jean, you remember Raven.”

“Of course.” Jean smiled and stepped forward, nodding at Raven. Then she looked at Erik, sadness lingering at the corners of her mouth. “Hello, Erik.”

“Jean. I must say, you make a fine queen,” Erik said, smiling at her before he turned to look at the knights, Sir Logan in particular, asking, “Do you not think so?”

A single blade slide from between one of Logan's knuckles, just as a smile crept across his mouth, one that didn't reach his eyes. Erik smiled back and turned to Raven. “You don't know the knights of Westchester. Most noble and honourable. Loyal to their king until their last breath. You will not find finer men, Raven.”

“You set a high standard. Before left,” Charles said, earning a narrow-eyed look from Erik. “Let's go inside, shall we? There's much to discuss.”

Charles turned to step into the tent behind, his knights following, Logan giving Erik a look of warning before he followed. Erik gave Raven a nod and she stepped inside ahead of him, leaving him with Jean who was watching him closely and openly. 

He turned to her and returned her look. “What?”

“What happened to you, Erik?” she asked quietly.

“You need to ask?” He tapped his temple. When Jean didn't respond, he understood. “Ah. I see you're keeping your promise. In that case you'll have to wait for Charles to tell you. I'm sure he'll be happy to share.”

Erik stepped forward only to feel Jean's hand push square against his chest. “You keep your secrets, Erik, I won't go anywhere near them. But-”

“Hurt Charles and you'll smash my mind into a million pieces,” Erik said, taking her hand and gently moving it away. “I would expect nothing less of you, Jean. Or his knights for that matter.”

Jean looked stung, but she nodded, a tight smile forming on her lips. She pull aside the flap of the tent and walked in, Erik following.

#

It was nightfall and Erik could no longer continue to pace his chambers. The King was slowly dying and the castle was busy with the comings and goings of officials, ready and waiting to crown their new king. As Erik made his way to Charles' chambers, he drew glances from those who knew him and Charles to be inseparable, finding it strange that now of all times, Erik was not at the prince's side. He walked past the guards in the hall outside Charles' chambers, pausing at his door for a moment before stepping inside.

Charles was sat in a chair, eyes fixed ahead, frozen as if he were made of stone, the fingers of both hands loosely curled around the end of the armrests. He seemed pale and ghostlike in the path of the moonlight which lit the far end of the room, the rest of it plunged in blue black darkness. Charles knew Erik was there. Erik knew that Charles had felt him the moment he decided to come here, yet he kept himself closed off.

Erik ran his fingers through his hair, his head aching. He found he couldn't move much further into the room, as if he had somehow bound himself close to the threshold. So he slumped against the door and said, “Say something.”

After a too tortuously long silence, Charles all but croaked, “I don't know what to say. I... I don't know what to do, Erik.”

“Are you sure?” Erik asked, voice thick. “Maybe he's confused. Maybe... he's...”

“It's the truth,” Charles said flatly. “I looked into his mind. It's true. We're... you're his son.”

Erik took a shaking breath, his hands fisting at his sides. “We didn't kno-”

“I can't,” Charles said tightly, shaking his head as he stood, turning his back on Erik. “I can't do this right now. My father is dying and everyone in this castle is thinking loudly about what happens if I become king and... my head feels like it's going to explode, Erik. I need... I need some space.”

“From me?” Erik asked quietly. “I'm crowding you?”

“Erik,” Charles grated out. “I just need some time. I can't-”

“Look at me,” Erik said, watching the way Charles' spine went rigid. “You can't even look at me.”

“Because I see what we did,” Charles said in a hushed voice. “I look at you and I see what we did.”

“We didn't know,” Erik said, his voice hushed. “It was... how could we have known?”

Charles was silent. It seemed no absolution was coming from his direction. After too long, all he said was, “I'm tired. Can we talk later? Please.”

Erik nodded, slowing turning away to open the door, his chest heavy with renewed grief. Without another word, Erik left Charles to his solitude and found comfort instead in the growing rattle of metal all the way back to his own chambers.

#

Erik dropped his armour to the ground and loosened his shirt. Sitting on the fur-covered pallet, Raven looked up at him with liquid-eyed intent, a soft smile spreading across her mouth. Erik slowly took off his shirt, dropping it next to the rest of his things. Raven's eyes went to the bandages wrapped around his torso. She held out a perfect blue hand, which he took, allowing the pull that landed him on the bed. 

She pushed him back gently, half covering him as she pressed a feather-light kiss to his wound. Erik closed his eyes with a sigh, his fingers playing in Raven's hair as she kissed a path up his body, stopping at his heart as if measuring his heartbeats with her mouth. He felt her smile, smiling too. Raven's fingers trailed delicately from his wrist, up his arm and finally to his face. He opened his eyes to see Raven smiling down at him. They kissed. 

“Stryker's dead,” she whispered over his mouth.

Erik nodded, opening his mouth to her kisses, somewhat thirsty for them. They spent too much time being warriors, not enough as lovers. “Tomorrow, I'm going to kill Shaw.”

Raven pulled back and gave him a look that didn't quite hide her concern. “He's strong.”

“No. His queen is strong. She has the same gift as Charles and Jean,” Erik said.

“So they'll fight her,” Raven said.

Erik shook his head, smiling. “It appears she's been captured. Sir Scott has been charged with guarding her. When Shaw arrives here tomorrow and finds two armies, he will beg for mercy and find none.”

“Charles agrees?” Raven asked, her leg covering his, her foot smoothing down towards his ankle.

Erik shrugged. “I didn't ask.”

“Such disrespect, even for your equals,” Raven said, before smiling mischievously, making Erik rear up and steal a kiss. He wrapped an arm around her waist, tight and firm, turning them so she lay beneath him, giving him a slightly reprimanding look. “You'll hurt your wound.”

Erik's looked from her golden eyes to her dark mouth, before back up again. “I've been hurt worse. This is nothing.”

Still, her hand protectively covered the wound, a warm pressure that ended up as a prickle inside Erik's heart. She sighed and said, “I'll just have to look after you, I suppose. What would you do without me?”

“Still be wandering aimlessly, throwing curses at the sky.” Raven scowled, shaking her head in protest. She pinched his arm, making him laugh. “You asked, Raven.”

“Stop talking,” she said. 

Erik smiled and pressed a firm kiss to her lips, thinking of her and her alone, of all the pleasures he and Raven took from each other. He told himself he thought of these things because he loved Raven, denying that part of him which said he thought of these things because he hated Charles. 

Or possibly another reason entirely.

#

Jean stepped in front of Erik, obscuring his view of the burnt out embers in the fireplace. He looked up at her, aware that his features twisted with irritation. She gave him a patient look and said, “It's the third day your meals have been returned to the kitchen without being touched.”

“Not hungry,” Erik said, looking away.

“Your closest friend is grieving for his dead father,” Jean said, sounding bewildered. “You've run to his side for less.”

“I'm sure now that he's king, his side will never be free of well-wishers and admirers,” Erik said. “In fact, I sense it might become too crowded for me.”

Jean was silently watching him. Erik glared up at her and warning, “Stay out of my head. You won't like what you find there.”

“Then tell me why he's so angry with you,” Jean said,

Erik stared at her, mouth falling slightly open. He slowly stood to look at Jean. “He told you he was angry?”

She shook her head. “He didn't have to. The moment I mentioned your name, I just felt it.”

This time it was Erik who felt silenced. Something dark seemed to burst and leak in his chest, something inky black. He turned away from her, trying to control the slow subtle shaking of metal in his chambers. It was beginning to sound like a loud snake hissing and uncoiling.

“Erik?” Jean asked softly, placing a calming hand on his arm.

Erik pulled away. “You should go to him. He needs a friend.”

“He needs you,” Jean said. Erik shook his head. “So you're just going to sit here and brood.”

Erik turned and gave her a look. “No. On the contrary. I'm going to give Charles all the space he needs.”

Erik thought about gathering a few things, clothes perhaps, maybe some money. But then he had the sudden realisation that he didn't want anything from this place. He'd already lost all that was precious to him. So he turned towards the door, Jean following.

“Where are you going?” Jean asked, trailing behind him as he stalked down the cold stone hall. “Erik, wait.”

Erik ignored her questions, concentrating on the hum and pull of metal all over the castle. His fingers flexed by his sides as he walked through the halls, down the stone steps and into the yard. 

“Erik!” Jean called at the steps.

Erik strode towards the large gates that separated the castle from the town, tall iron railings that had always meant safety, but now felt like a prison. They were bolted shut, the mechanism controlled by guardsman. Erik turned to squint back at the stone castle, seeing Jean watching him with a frown, lingering somewhere on the outside of his thoughts. He turned back towards the gates and reached out an outspread hand. 

He thought of the dead king, his father. He thought of being a young boy whose parents didn't return home one day. He thought of playing with his childhood friend, the boy who would share anything and everything with him. He thought of their summers and winters together. He thought of frenzied kisses and their bodies sinking into each other, gaining knowledge that was now forbidden and always should have been. He thought of Charles, his back turned on Erik in anger, the pain in his voice as he pleaded to be left alone. He thought of Charles somewhere in that castle, knowing Erik was leaving. Watching him go.

The gates twisted and contorted before flinging apart, eliciting gasps from onlookers. Erik lowered his hand and walked out of the castle grounds, through the town, across the bridge that separated Westchester from the outside world, through the forest, past the lake and into the wild undergrowth of the badlands where mercenaries waited to take hostages. He walked and walked and walked until he realised he was running. But no matter how he ran, it all came with him, everything he wanted to forget. He finally fell to his knees, yelling half-sobbed curses into the cold rain, his fingers curled in the mud, his shoulders shaking and his stomach clutching. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat hunched over under the relentless rain. Long enough that his whole body was shaking from the cold which had reached his bones. If it wasn't for that keen sense of metal suddenly appearing in the air, Erik might have remained there on the mud path which seemed to be turning into a stream, running between two ridges of land. He looked up, tasting the metal, like salt in his mouth and like a light scratching on his skin. There at the top of the hill was a horse rider standing next to his steed. He was wrapped in a black cloak, a dark hood obscuring his face. 

Erik remained where he was, his arms wrapped around him as he tried not to shake. The man on the other hand was making his way carefully down the hill, his footing slipping and sliding once or twice before he finally landed with a splash, not too far from Erik. Erik watched him approach, both of them eyeing each other warily, Erik already putting out a feel for the man's sword and dagger. The man stopped by him and reached out a hand. Erik immediately pulled away, frowning as the man took off his hood, revealing no familiar face until right before Erik's eyes the face turned from man to woman and the skin from pale to blue.

Erik slumped where he sat, only now realising how much grief his heart carried and how it was threatening to spill over all at once. He stared at Raven, unable to speak, grateful for the rain. She crouched by him and put a gloved hand on his shoulder. Erik tried to pull away at first, but Raven moved closer and suddenly she had her arms around him and his face was buried in her shoulder, his eyes shut tight. He wept then, for a man who gave him his name. For the mother who had been deemed unworthy to be queen. For the king who became his father too late. And for the man who had been his friend, his lover and his brother. 

He grieved for them all.

#

“You're going to kill Shaw,” Charles said the next morning. Their armies were in place, their sentries posted and waiting for the invaders. Charles and Erik sat astride their horses, looking out across the rolling hills before them, together. Two kings, side by side. 

“Of course,” Erik said. Next to him Charles gave a thoughtful nod. “Your dungeons won't keep him, Charles.”

“No,” Charles said quietly. “They won't. What about you, Erik? What can I do to keep you?”

Erik kept his gaze fixed ahead. “You have your treaty. We're allies now.”

“And when Shaw is dead?”

“We divide Shaw and Stryker's conquests as agreed,” Erik said. “Then you keep your promise to stay away from the affairs of Genosha. I promise not to hurt your precious humans.”

“I meant your friendship. Perhaps to have a brother again,” Charles said.

Erik smiled, though it felt tight and unreal. “You have more than we've had in five years.”

“Still doesn't quite match up to what I've lost,” Charles said. 

Erik finally turned his head and looked at Charles, straight into an observant bright blue gaze. “What was it you said? Move on. We can't change the past. So here it is. I have moved on. Keep your precious Westchester. You have what you want. An unchallenged kingdom.”

“I don't have what I want, Erik,” Charles said hoarsely. “Not in any sense at all.”

“And what is it that you want, Charles?” Erik asked. “What do you want from me?”

“Forgiveness,” Charles said. 

“You did something unforgivable?” Erik asked with a snort.

Charles looked down at his hands, his fingers tightening around the reigns of his horse. “I was too busy steeped in my own guilt and shame. I didn't think for once that like everything else in our lives, perhaps we could have shared this hurt too. I was so consumed with anger at our father, at myself. I didn't even realise I was pushing you away.”

Erik looked at Charles, swallowing to ease the constriction in his throat. He grimaced and looked away. “Doesn't matter anymore.”

“I can feel your hurt, Erik. Your anger towards me,” Charles said. “It matters.”

Erik's head snapped to the side as he glared at Charles. “So what will you do? How will you make it go away?”

“The way you wanted me to all those years ago,” Charles said. “I'll do what you asked. If it's still what you want.”

Erik stared, dumbstruck, unmoving until a horn of warning blew and his mind was forced to acknowledge it. Charles slipped the visor of his helmet down and rode away, while Erik remained motionless, trying to grasp what had just been offered to him.

#

It was months before Erik saw Charles. The druid camp and taken him in like they took many. Away from everything he knew, Erik grieved in silence and solitude at first and then through finding as much hard work as he could, helping around the camp, acquiring callouses on his hands that were quite different to the ones that came from wielding a sword. He found solace and comfort in Raven's arms, seeking her out often, going to her when she called, calling to her when he was alone. She was the one who had told him that Charles wished to meet. Erik didn't care to find out how Charles knew Erik's whereabouts and how exactly messages were exchanged between the camp and the castle. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to meet Charles. The world of Westchester seemed so long ago.

They met by the lake. Raven stayed back, out of sight, insisting on acting the shadow. Charles appeared to be alone. He seemed different, his face a little less round, his posture somewhat stiffer. There was a hardness in his eyes Erik couldn't recall having seen before. He could tell from Charles' expression that his friend also seemed surprised by Erik's appearance. Clad in the hard-wearing dark clothes of the druids, Erik's hair had been shorn close to his head and his face no longer had the smooth look of an over-indulged castle-dweller, now rough with stubble. He knew he looked thinner, a little gaunt. But then food was like gold when you no longer had it served to you on a platter at regular intervals.

“I wasn't sure you'd come,” Charles said as he dismounted, landing on both feet with a hard thump. He patted the horse and turned to face Charles who was still scrutinising him. “Are you well?”

Erik scratched at his stubble, thinking over the question before he nodded. He was well enough. Feeling heartsick was no real illness after all. 

Charles looked a little impatient then, sounded frustrated when he asked, “Erik, what are you doing with the druids?”

“They're friends,” Erik said, noting the odd startled look on Charles face with a little satisfaction. 

“They are dangerous,” Charles said slowly. “If they've taken you in it's because they know who you are and they know they can use it to their advantage.”

Erik frowned at Charles. “And who am I exactly?”

Charles looked away, brow furrowed with annoyance. Looking anywhere but at Erik, he said, “They know you were a ward of the king. That you're the first knight. They know you're my friend.”

Erik smiled. “They do? How could they possibly know something even I don't know myself?”

Charles stared at him, clearly confused. “Six months away from Westchester and you're a foreigner to me?”

“I was a foreigner to you within six seconds of your father's confession. You wouldn't even look at me,” Erik said quietly as he stepped towards Charles, noting a flinch, a desire to move back that was ignored with apparent difficulty. Charles' eyes flicked down to the ground. “What did you think would happen?”

Charles shook his head. “I didn't _think_ anything.”

Erik took a few more steps, closing the gap between him and Charles, peering at Charles, forcing him to look back. “What did you _think_ I would do?”

Charles snapped to attention, his gaze bright and sharp. Erik could read heartbreak all over his his face, at the downturned mouth, the sad corners of his eyes. “That's unfair.”

“You could have stopped me from going,” Erik said quietly. “You could have stopped me at any time, but you didn't. Did you feel safer without me? Look at you. Even now, you can't wait to run away, can you? Are you afraid I'll do something, Charles?”

“Erik, please,” Charles whispered, looking away.

“Are you afraid I'll do this?” Erik asked, grabbing Charles' face by his chin and kissing him hard. 

It was a cold and clunky kiss, their teeth clashing, Charles mouth gasping open in surprise before he shoved Erik away hard. He wiped at his mouth, looking stunned, before he whipped about and slapped Erik hard. The force of the blow spun Erik to the side, dislodging his footing. His lip stung and he tasted blood. Wiping it away with his thumb he looked up at Charles, part of him satisfied by Charles' response, but another part... breaking, all over again. 

He lunged at Charles, throwing him to the ground and striking out. Charles struck back and for the longest time they fought to gain control of each other, their limbs a tangle of sharp jabs and hard kicks. Finally Erik straddled Charles, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and struck him hard. Charles stilled, dazed, his eyes blinking to focus.

“What a fine king you make. You have your father's arrogance down to perfection. He thought my mother wasn't worth fighting for, and you? You think I'm so weak-willed I'd lust after my own brother,” Erik said, shaking Charles hard.

“I didn't,” Charles grated out. “I didn't think that for a moment.”

“Then what?” Erik spat. “Why did you turn your back on me? Why are you angry with _me_?”

Charles levelled him with a hard piercing look and suddenly Erik's leg felt broken, the pain lancing up to his hip and making him fall back with a yell. His leg was fine, but the memory of breaking his leg was very real and as fresh as when it had happened. He lay on his back gasping for a long time as his senses returned to him and he realised what Charles had done. He sat up as Charles got to his feet. 

“I look at you and see everything that's been snatched away from me. You think you're the only one suffering, you're not. You ran away, Erik. I'm the one left behind in that place, knowing that the only person who mattered isn't there anymore. We're both hurting.”

“Then make it stop,” Erik said, getting up slowly. “Make it go away.”

Charles frowned, watching Erik warily as he limped forward on the memory of a broken bone. Erik took Charles' resistant hands and brought them up to his own temples, holding them there. Charles' eyes widened.

“Do it,” Erik said, his voice cracking. “Make it so it never happened. Please.”

“But it did happen,” Charles whispered. He pulled away, shaking his head. “It happened and we shouldn't have the luxury of forgetting. I'm sorry.”

Erik stared, watching Charles backing away, preparing to leave. “You would rather have me as an enemy than as your brother?”

Charles mounted his horse, picking up the reigns. He did it all with a bright-eyed yet vacant look, telling Erik, “Maybe it's what we deserve.”

Erik felt the burn of tears in his eyes, forcing a smile onto his face as he nodded. “Then you'll have it, if that's what you want.”

“What I want,” Charles said quietly, “is quite irrelevant. Be well, Erik. Take care of yourself.”

Erik replied, “Don't worry about me. Go look after your subjects and your crown.”

A final look and Charles turned about and rode off, the sound of hooves pounding the earth disappearing quickly, leaving Erik alone until Raven arrived, dismounting and coming to Erik. 

She held out a hand towards him and said, “Come.”

Erik looked at her hand and then took it in his, his fingers tightening around hers as he gave her a single nod, the sound of Charles' departure still thumping loud in his head.

#

Erik made his way through the forest, sword at the ready. Shaw had not expected two armies in wait and he'd paid the price heavily. Then he'd run, many of his followers having deserted him. 

“Anything?” Erik whispered.

 _I can't penetrate his mind. There's something blocking me_ , came Charles' reply. It was strange to have Charles in his head again, that warm familiar presence as if he'd never been away.

“His helmet,” Erik said. “It's special. I can feel it in the metal.”

_Erik, wait. We're right behind you. Don't do anything rash._

“You know me, Charles,” Erik said, “I wouldn't dream of it.”

 _Erik,_ came the definite warning.

Erik continued onwards, Charles still in and out of his mind, fighting against Erik's resistance to listen. Finally he came to a stop when he saw a figure in black, facing the end of a path that led straight to a ravine. The man turned to look at Erik and Erik greeted him with a tight smile. 

“Leaving so soon?” Erik asked.

The other man tilted his head at Erik and Erik could see the flash of an even smile. “Circumstances dictate that I should.”

Erik shook his head. “But I insist you stay.”

The black knight drew his sword and said, “Well, I suppose it would be a pity if I left without killing at least one king today.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Erik said

#

Raven straddled Erik's lap and pulled off his shirt. He grabbed her by the hips to pull her close and crushed his mouth to hers. He catalogued all the ways Raven felt different to Charles. Her curves and her softness, the raised patterns over her skin. The breathy sounds she made when he touched her. And when he sank into her, pushed deep inside, she drew a sharp breath and tightened her thighs around his hips and swallowed him a little deeper, bringing him closer, holding him tight as his heart spun a little out of control, his thrusting frantic and desperate. 

“Does this mean you're staying?” she whispered later as he lay with his arms wrapped around her, his face buried in her shoulder as she stroked his hair. He nodded silently. “For how long?”

He lifted his head then and looked her in the eyes. “How long will you have me, Raven?”

She smiled and said, “Let's pretend that's why you're here.”

Erik didn't dispute the gentle allegation. He sank back down and closed his eyes, holding her a little tighter. Not that she would ever be the one to leave. This much he already knew.

#

Charles burst through the bushy undergrowth with Logan, Raven and Jean in tow. He stopped when he saw Erik standing over the dead body of Shaw, his dagger still protruding from Shaw's chest, Shaw's helmet now adorning Erik's head. Charles glanced at Jean and she frowned, Charles' face remaining blank. Erik watched the small silent conversation with interest before he turned his attention to Raven and held out a hand for her. She came to him, taking his hand as she looked at Shaw's corpse with a small smirk of satisfaction. 

“That's it? It's over?” Logan asked gruffly.

Erik looked at Charles and arched a brow, the expression probably lost under the helmet he wore. “Unless your king has other ideas, I would say so.”

“Jean, Logan, tell the others about Shaw,” Charles said quietly. 

There was a moment of silence again. Erik couldn't help but smirk when he saw Logan's brow furrow with irritation at the silent conversation between Charles and Jean. Jean clenched her jaw and nodded at Charles and turned to leave. Logan followed, simmering silently. 

“A moment to speak to our ally, if you don't mind, Raven.” 

Erik turned to Raven, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles lightly. Raven smiled at him, turning to leave. She gave Charles a nod as she left the two men behind. Left alone with Charles, Erik blinked rather innocently at the other man, ignoring the stern glare directed at him. 

“I hope this doesn't mean you're going to continue where Shaw left off.” Charles nodded towards Erik's helmet. Erik tilted his head to look at the dead corpse. “Because if you are, Erik, don't think I won't be there to stop you.”

“I would expect nothing less of you, but nevertheless, I'd advise you to stay out of my way,” Erik said, noting Charles' eyes flicking up to the helmet again. Erik held a hand up to the helmet, stroking his fingers down the strange smooth metal. “Yes, this. I decided against your offer to relieve me of my memories.”

“You could have said no,” Charles said. “There's not need for that thing.”

“Yes, but what about when you have reason enough to not ask, to not wait for my consent?” Charles looked away, the muscles of his jaw tense. Not even the slightest denial. It made Erik smile. “It's not that I don't trust you. I just know you too well. All you need is a good enough reason and you would think nothing of rearranging my mind.”

Charles nodded, a frantic movement. His smile was pinched when he looked at Erik and his voice thick when he spoke. “I hope for both our sakes you'll never give me such a reason.”

“There's much to be done with Shaw and Stryker's lands yet,” Erik floated off the ground, hovering in front of Charles. “Go back to your kingdom and celebrate.”

Charles looked up at Erik, before taking a step to turn away. Then he stopped to tell Erik, “You know Westchester will always be your home, Erik. Mighty ruler that you are, you may not think much of what I'm offering you, but it's there all the same. Your home. Your brother. We don't have to enemies.”

Erik floated a little closer, his fingers curling into tight fists at his side. He frowned at Charles for a moment before he straightened up, reasserting the distance between them. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “Perhaps it's better that we are. Go your people, Charles. Don't waste a good victory when you have it.”

Charles gave Erik a tired and somewhat defeated smile. “Yes. Of course. There's much to be thankful for, I suppose.”

Erik felt his eyes sting, but forced his mouth into a smile of sorts anyway as he managed no more than, “Indeed.”

Charles nodded slowly, giving Erik a lasting look, and then left without another word. Erik turned about in the air and held out his hand, watching his dagger fly from the wound in Shaw's chest and land on his outstretched palm. He wiped the blade on his sleeve before replacing it in its scabbard. Giving the dead man a satisfied smile, Erik turned and his made his way to his people, this time with a cool and quiet space in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [kink meme prompt](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/7634.html?thread=13186258#t13186258).


End file.
